Death's Daughter

by L. A. McGinnis

  “Should we go in there?” Hunter wondered out loud. “He’s awfully big.”

  “Oh, don’t worry, she can handle him,” Morgane assured them. “She’s got him wrapped around her little finger, and he doesn’t bite, actually. She’ll be fine. Now we’ve all got work to do, so let’s get to it. Hunter and I will start at Millennium Park.”

  45

  “How long ago did he arrive?”

  Hunter could still smell him. The Orobus stank of sulphur with a touch of decay, a sickly sweet combination that curdled the stomach and tormented her nose.

  Morgane straightened up, her body unfurling in one smooth movement. “Close to nine months ago. But the pieces were already in place. Syd was setting up the dolmen circle in the museum, Celine had written out most of the spell, my sister was in purgatory waiting to be freed. You were in New York, that last, little piece of himself ready to be called back home. Everyone just waiting to do their part.” Her voice dripped with bitterness.

  “But we’re seeing the bigger picture,” Hunter’s observed, taking in their ruined surroundings. “After all these months, finally, the pieces are coming together.”

  And she was beginning to see what Ava and Odin already knew.

  “You sister. What was Ava like, before?”

  “Ava?” Morgane huffed out a laugh. “You know, it’s funny, all these months and no one’s ever really asked me. Probably because they’re scared to death of her. Gram used to call her a princess.” Hunter jolted a little at that, before Morgane went on, “But she never really lived up to that nickname. No, Ava’s always been a bit sharper, a bit edgier than everyone else. My mother always said she was the beautiful one, and with those cheekbones and those eyes, you can see why.”

  Morgane paused, absently kicking a chunk of metal. “But Ava’s always burned too bright. And now, with this power inside of her, there are times I’m afraid for her.”

  “Afraid of her?”

  Morgane shook her head. “No, not of her. I love my sister, always have, always will. But she was born to be more. Now she has the power to do so.” Her head whipped to Hunter. “These marks on her arms. If the Orobus has claimed her… Was she saying what I think she was?”

  Hunter paused, thinking through her answer. “She’s scared it’s true. Perhaps you should talk to her, ask her what happened.”

  “Don’t you think I’ve tried?” Morgane brushed back her hair, frustrated. “I have. Many times. She blows me off or shuts me down.”

  “And you don’t want to push too hard?”

  Morgane’s eyes widened. “Would you?”

  “No,” Hunter admitted, remembering the writhing body she’d held so tight, the madness, the sense the woman would not come back from what was happening to her and might not have wanted to. “If your sister is correct, then he’s marked her for a purpose. And she has every reason to be frightened. But we won’t allow her to become another of his pawns.”

  “Agreed.”

  “Tyr gave us a target.” Hunter tested the air, the wrongness of this place, before looking to the west. “We have a few hours left, what do you say we pursue leads?”

  Morgane warned, “Hel isn’t your normal predator. All Tyr wants is her location, which means we gather leads and that’s it.” Morgane stared off into the wreckage. “Which also means we don’t confront or get close.”

  “Ah. So that’s why he sent you along?”

  “To be the voice of reason, such that I am.”

  “I may have been born human, but Tyr made me into something else.” Hunter traced the markings on the shiny stainless steel. The ragged edges caught against her fingers. “I’ve hunted on this world for a thousand years. But you are correct. I promise to exercise caution.”

  She purposely kept her eyes averted from Morgane’s as she added, “We should head in the direction of the river, I caught the scent of Grim, a lot of them.”

  “Loki said the Grim are gone.”

  “Are they?” Hunter asked, tucking her knife back into her belt. “I suppose we’ll find out. If there are Grim in the city, then Hel may be close by.” Hunter rounded the jagged section of debris, marking the way the light seemed to bend in around the entire area. As if time itself had been warped.

  “You know,” she continued, “your sister and I are very much alike. Closer, perhaps than I care to admit.”

  Morgane scoffed as Hunter added, “I’m serious. When the God of Chaos shoved a piece of himself into me that day, it was like containing a thousand entities. For a time, too long a time, mind you, they ruled me. I did…” Ducking her head, Hunter pretended to examine one of the long claw marks. “Terrible things. To my family, to anyone I came across. I killed hundreds, perhaps thousands. I don’t know.”

  “How can you not know?” Now there was a trace of horror in Morgane’s voice, as perhaps there should be, Hunter thought, wryly.

  “Because Tyr never told me how many. Because he felt responsible and he shielded me from the truth as best he could.” Hunter told herself the tears were from the wind. That she was absolutely not crying. “But with his help, I wrestled control from the darkness. It took years of work to gain the upper hand, a hundred before I slept at night.”

  “And a thousand years before I knew the truth.”

  “What truth?” Morgane asked, her face rapt.

  “That whatever birthed that dark power, however that darkness began, after all those years, it was a part of me, it belonged to me. And when the God of Chaos stole it away?” A cold, cunning smile curved Hunter’s lips as blood pounded in her ears. “He took what was mine. I bent that power to my will, and once I call it back? It will come.”

  “What about my sister?”

  Hunter met Morgane’s eyes, even though she knew Morgane wasn’t ready to hear this. “Whatever your sister has inside her is ten times as powerful. You felt a touch of that power yesterday when she rocked the building. I tasted it. It surpassed anything that I’ve ever felt before.” Hunter paused, unsure how much more to reveal. “Including what was in me.”

  “Hers is more powerful?”

  “It was more…everything.”

  “And now you command this power. Surely Ava could do the same?”

  “It took me many lifetimes to accomplish this.” Hunter shook her head. “A single mortal life might be too short. What I do know is, your sister—in truth, Ave is not your sister anymore. She is something else.” As Morgane tried to deny it, Hunter grasped her arm. “I’m only saying she is different. The point is, it doesn’t matter what she is now. But she has to stay strong. Strong enough to control the power, if not master it. She must, if she wants to survive.”

  Hunter released Morgane, but she didn’t move. “We’re all different now, Morgane. Me, you, Celine. Sydney. All of us. Adapt or die. Your sister’s adapting, learning to live with this strange power trapped inside of her. And when we face off with the Orobus, I have a suspicion Ava will play a huge part.” Though Hunter wondered if any of them would survive it.

  “To stand a chance in this war, we need allies. Strong allies,” Hunter said, repeating Ava’s earlier words. She looked out, following the faint, sweet scent that trailed off into the city. “I know what I have to do.”

  The smell led them past the burned-out hulks of cars and the picked over corpses of the forgotten and unlucky. Winding further west, Hunter and Morgane headed for the river, climbing over the pile of cars at the Orleans Bridge across from the Merchandise Mart. Hunter held out a hand to stop Morgane. Something seemed…off about this place. As every instinct lit up, the hollow cawing of crows echoed down the waterway from the east. Crouching down, she pulled Morgan down alongside.

  “This is where the scent turns fouler, and it’s coming from over there, between the Mart and the construction zone.” Hunter didn’t like it. Not the way her instincts prickled, nor the way the approach would expose them. Glancing to her right, there were a thousand windows overlooking their position. “You could head back. Report to
Tyr, tell him we found something.”

  Morgane shook her head, whispering back, “I don’t think so. I’m sticking with you, if you don’t mind. Which means either we both go home or we both go on.”

  Hunter deliberated, then checked her weapons while Morgane did the same. “If we keep going, we’ll need an exit strategy. How well do you know this area?”

  “Pretty well. I hunted here every seven months or so. This was quadrant fifteen.”

  “Best way back to the Tower?”

  Morgane calculated. “East on Wacker, south on LaSalle, then straight down Washington to home. Might still know a shortcut or two, depending on the terrain.” She shrugged with a grin. “But you know how that goes.”

  Hunter grinned back. She was really starting to like this one. “We’re being watched. Multiple enemies, multiple vantage points, there.” Hunter pointed up at the Merchandise Mart. “Up on those floors, and over there as well.” Hunter indicated the building to the left. “More than the two of us can handle, and that’s why I hesitate to cross.”

  Morgane motioned downriver. “A half mile east of here, North Wells Bridge is a double-decker, the steel and asphalt would offer some cover.”

  “Lead the way.”

  “My pleasure.” Morgane moved with efficiency and calm, Hunter thought, a capable machine, trained for this kind of thing. The bridge offered enough cover that they arrived intact and climbed the stairs to the corner entrance of what had once been the largest building in the world. It certainly felt like this place held all the evil in the world, Hunter thought, reaching for the handle.

  “Wait a second,” Morgane whispered. “I feel—something—this is bad.”

  “Yes, I’m aware. But we’re here. You don’t have to go in, but I do. You can scout the exterior thoroughly and report back. Decide how to proceed.” For a second, her eyes flickered. “You know, just in case.”

  Morgane put a staying arm across Hunter’s chest. “No freaking way. You are not leaving me out here. I’m not explaining to Tyr how I let you go inside alone. Lead the way.”

  “Morgane…” Hunter waffled. Now would be the opportune time to lay everything out. But now was too late as Morgane pulled the door open and the full force of the stench hit them.

  Somewhere between toxic waste and rancid, rotting flesh, the smell ate through her senses until tears flowed from her eyes. “Holy shit,” Morgane muttered, gagging softly.

  The low, skittering of claws echoed along the hall, becoming a kind of continuous white noise that masked their footsteps. This cavernous warehouse of Marshall Fields, built to hold all the wholesale goods of an entire country, held something else these days. Hunter put her back to the wall and crept silently onward, heading for what looked like a brightly lit opening ahead. The place had been compartmentalized over the years, but there was still one mind boggling, meant-to-impress foyer. Impress it did, as Hunter and Morgane stepped into it, dripping with the bodies of Grim hanging from every surface like flies.

  “Holy shit,” Morgane said again.

  “So this is where she’s been keeping all of you.” Hunter did a quick sweep, calculating numbers, before backing Morgane into the relative safety of darkness. “If only one of us gets out, make sure you make it back to the Tower, do you hear me? No playing hero. They’ve got to know about this.”

  “Know about what? Exactly?”

  The click clicking of heels, expensive heels, on the marble floor drew closer, and Hunter slid a knife out of her belt before Morgane put a hand out and stopped her. “That won’t do you any good, I’m afraid,” she whispered, fear written all over her face. “We’re pretty much screwed.”

  “She’s right, you know. You are. Screwed.” Hel’s voice was lilting. The low, husky tone echoed from the marble all around, off the glossy floor beneath their feet.

  Hunter didn’t want to look, not really, but she had to. This was a train wreck of epic proportions, yet she couldn’t help herself. Hel was beautiful. In a slippery-fish sort of way, with her iridescent, porcelain skin, and her too-black eyes, and a mouth that was juicy-supermodel-plump perfection. The Goddess of Death was pure evil, poured into the ideal, fleshy vessel which had been tailored for it. Hunter stared, mouth agape, utterly fascinated.

  “I know, I know, not quite what you expected, am I?”

  Hunter just shook her head, stunned beyond words.

  The heels clicked and clicked in an obscene rhythm as Hel circled, each sound a bite out of the time they had left. “I’ve been dying to meet you, you know. Forever. Actually, I’ve put it off for far too long.” Her voice grew deceptively softer. “And yet you waltzed right in, like you didn’t have a care in the world.” Hel stopped until they were face to face.

  Hunter didn’t have words. She couldn’t actually think. She just stood there and took her in. The woman’s cool demeanor, the shape of her face, the curve of her jaw, the mass of black, glossy hair. Except for the color of her eyes, the visage was all too familiar. “You are a brave girl. But you never should have come.”

  Hunter agreed. They never should have come here. She should have stayed in the Tower. Hell, she should have stayed in New York and let the city burn down around her. A little hysterical laugh burst out of her. She should have left the dark inside of her and never met Tyr and never let him save her. She should have died that day she broke her neck.

  That’s how things should have gone.

  That’s what was supposed to happen.

  Hunter saw her life pass by in the blink of an eye, with crystal clarity now, how things were supposed to have gone, and yet, she had to ask. She had to know. “All this time, you knew? You knew right where I was. Who I was?” Hunter whispered, her throat raw and aching.

  “Yes. All this time,” Hel agreed with a wry smile. “But you can’t blame me for all of it, child, since everyone seems to have had a hand in where you ended up. Which, I’d like to point out, is right here. With your mother.” And as Hel wrapped her arms around her, Hunter heard Morgane’s stunned voice behind her.

  “Hol-y shit,” Morgane said.

  For the third, and final time.

  46

  The wind tearing at his hair, Odin stared out over the city.

  To his right, the Orobus covered the old museum campus like a plague, the reach of his shadows encompassing even the old football stadium, stretching out across the water. To his left, a sudden disturbance pulled his attention north. Events were shifting in the world, but with this infernal blindness, he couldn’t tell what it might be.

  Atop a broken wall, his ravens awaited orders, the wind picking up their feathers, their eyes bright as they tilted their heads one way and then the other, while Odin…stalled.

  He’d been sober for a few days now.

  Not that it made a bit of difference. He was still blind, damn it. Part of him hoped the good drunk might shake things loose, but all he’d been left with was a crippling hangover and some memories he wished he could erase.

  Primarily Ava’s disgust with him.

  So he’d decided to see the monster for himself. View firsthand the destruction he’d allowed to happen on his watch. And even seeing it, he still had no idea of what to do next.

  Zipping up his coat, he was about to ghost back to the Tower when he heard light footsteps and the scent of her hit him. Months ago, if someone would have told him the smell of a mortal would make his knees weak, he’d have sent them to the darklands to die. Now, he only steadied himself against a girder and prayed he didn’t make a complete fool out of himself.

  “Odin. They said you were here.”

  The way Ava’s hair was whipping around made him want to tangle his hands in it, pull that silken mass away from her lovely face, but he stayed exactly where he was. No sense in turning this into more of a debacle than it already was.

  “I wanted a chance to talk to you, away from the others…to…to…” Those unusual eyes caught the light and his breath caught, noting how incredibly expressive they were.
“Thank you for the room. And apologize for what happened the other day. I lost control. It won’t happen again.”

  “What happened was hardly your fault.”

  “What happened was completely my fault.”

  He opened his mouth, but when she pressed her hand against his chest, the breath went out of him. “It was me. I’ve been losing control for weeks, now. And besides, when haven’t you pissed me off? It wasn’t you, trust me.” She lowered her hand, rubbed at her arm before turning away and looking at the roiling shadow below them.

  Reaching out, he caught her wrist, rolled her sleeve back, even as she fought him. Both of them stared wordlessly at the pattern covering her flesh. “So it’s already happened,” he murmured, a sick feeling churning in his stomach.

  “You… How could you know? I told them not to say a word.” Ava angrily yanked out of Odin’s grasp. Shoved the sleeve down, her hand shaking as she covered the hideous marks. “They promised.”

  “No one said a word to me, Ava. They kept their promise to you,” he said, reaching out for her again, if only to quell her trembling. “I saw this, the marks on your arm, a long time ago. I saw what would happen.”

  Misery coursed through him at the expression on her face. Betrayal, dread, it was all written there so clearly, and he’d do anything to wipe them away. Hopelessness at their situation kept him drinking. Futility brought him here tonight. If only for this one, brief moment they’d share. “I saw what happens, Ava. I know how everything ends. And I can’t do anything to stop it.”

  He couldn’t tell Ava he’d seen her future. That it was those visions, those terrible memories burned into his brain, he’d tried to wash away with bottle after bottle. He hadn’t succeeded. Not even once.

  “Why didn’t you tell me?”

  It was the note of desperation in her voice that had him crossing to her, settling an arm around her, pulling her in. Surprisingly, she came.